Carry On Sister
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: I'll spare you Chapter 1 - it makes the story too long - all you need to know is that Doyle found his partner unconscious in his apartment - another victim of a flu pandemic. Doyle got help, but then succumbed to flu himself later. A private convalescent/rehabilitation home for armed/emergency services has been pressed into use for thes cases during this emergency. Now read on -


Chapter 2

Bodie was a man of the world, and had been in the world enough to distinguish between the gentle snoring of a female and that of the deep sonorous bellow of a man. The noise which woke him was definitely of the latter category, and very close to his ear. He turned his aching head and found himself in a densely packed hospital ward. He had no idea how he'd got there but had a good idea why. Now, there was the question of where. Somehow it didn't look like a regular ward. He tried to sit up but felt that there was a lead weight on his chest. A nurse must have been alerted to his thrashing and came over anxiously.

"You've had a good sleep, Mr Bodie. How are you feeling?"

Her soft Irish brogue was comforting.

"Rotten. Where am I?"

"Henley Manor."

"I thought …"

"Requisitioned for the emergency," she anticipated.

Bodie asked for a glass of water and this was duly brought. The nurse, Moira, helped Bodie into a sitting position and he enjoyed her physical presence. He tried to think of something else to ask her, just to keep her at his side, but dropped off to sleep before he could think of anything. He felt her ease the glass from his hand and take his pulse. He drifted in and out of sleep for the next 24 hours. Unknown to him, his partner had been brought in while he slept. He'd found out that it was Doyle who'd got help for him, and it didn't surprise him. He should have got help himself while he still could, but had thought that a generous dose of aspirin would have put him right. He made a mental note to check on his masculine pride next time he felt unwell, and not risk his life on pretending that illness would just go away. Ray couldn't be by his side 24 hours a day checking his pulse and his ego.

If having a male nurse help him to drink his soup wasn't bad enough, Bodie then suffered the indignity of the man, Eric, giving him a bed bath. Shortly after he'd been tucked up and his vital signs checked, he found a visitor drifting over - Asquith, a mate of Bodie's. He was in a dressing gown, so clearly a patient not a visitor. His partner, Howes, had also been brought in and was recovering quicker than Asquith.

"At this rate, he'll be passing his exams quicker than me, and abandoning me to my fate here," Asquith moaned.

"Exams?"

"Yeah. Your ticket out of here, old mate, is to be able to walk the length of this ward here, climb a flight of stairs, back down and then back to your bed before lights out."

Bodie knew that such a simple exercise was beyond him at the moment.

"Not sure Ray will be overtaking you in the hare and the tortoise race, though."

"Ray?" Bodie was suddenly anxious.

"Yeah. He's been brought in. Didn't you know?"

Clearly this was news to Bodie.

"Now don't look so worried, my old mate. He'll be as right as rain in a few days. They haven't lost anyone yet."

"Ray is an exception to any rule that was ever written."

They both chuckled and Asquith promised Bodie a wheelchair next day if he were able to sit up at least unaided.

Bodie had asked the following day for news on his friend but frustratingly was getting nowhere. After dinner Moira appeared with a wheelchair.

"I hear you've been making a nuisance of yourself, William."

"Bodie. My friends call me Bodie."

"Do I count as a friend?"

"With a wheelchair in your hands you certainly do!"

Moira smiled prettily. She was nearly ten years older than Bodie but her Irish charms were seeping under his skin. She helped him into the wheelchair and he realised just how weak he'd become since falling ill. She put a blanket over his knees and they set off. The journey to the other end of the extensive ward didn't take long. Doyle was asleep and looked grey and gaunt.

"Has he woken up yet?"

"Not yet. To be honest, we're getting a bit concerned about him. But Major Cowley's team are being carried in here with exhaustion as well as flu. Not a good combination, but we can cope with it," she finished encouragingly.

"I've seen him look better," Bodie said, not taking his eyes from their patient.

Moira sensed the anxiety in him. She wondered whether bringing him here was such a good idea after all. "Aye. I've seen refugees in Africa look healthier than this one. Does he eat anything at all?"

"The odd bean sprout or two," Bodie murmured distractedly. "Were you in Africa then?" He dragged his gaze away from his partner and looked into her brown eyes. He needed a distraction and this Irish siren was just what the doctor ordered.

It turned out that Moira had been in Africa at the same time as Bodie - and in the same country. She was up north, though, and their paths had never crossed. They exchanged reminisces about feeding stations and the 'porridge' that was given to the starving. Doyle began to stir.

"I think all this chatter is beginning to disturb him, Bodie. Time we left him to his beauty sleep."

"He needs plenty of that all right. He should be awake tomorrow though?" he asked anxiously.

"Illness doesn't run to a timetable, Bodie, but I'll ask that someone let you know when he opens those lovely eyes of his."

"How do you know they're lovely? They could be bloodshot and cross-eyed!"

Moira laughed softly, as he hoped she would. They held each other's eyes for a while before Moira got all efficient and wheeled Bodie back to bed. It seemed that Bodie was getting under her skin, too.

Doyle did wake next day. Word hadn't reached the staff that Bodie was to be informed. They had quite enough work to do than to keep the odd patient up to date on other patients so it was his mate, Asquith, who broke the good news that Doyle had opened his eyes. Asquith even managed to find a wheelchair - after he'd had a sit down and got his breath back from his excursion. He couldn't manage to get Bodie out of bed on his own, though, and Eric had to help him. Bodie knew that Eric was only doing his job, but he didn't like to be handled by men. Still, Eric did wheel Bodie to Doyle's side and left him there for ten minutes' relative privacy. Doyle had gone back to sleep and Bodie had to do a bit of prodding to get him to open his eyes again. It took a while for his friend to focus. He could barely keep his eyes open.

"How are you feeling, sunshine?" Bodie asked anxiously.

"Alive, I suppose," Doyle murmured hoarsely, as though wanting reassurance about that fact. He drifted off again and, when he came to a few minutes later, it seemed that he remembered that Bodie was a patient here not a visitor.

"How are you, though?" he asked.

"In the land of the living - thanks to you. Sorry about not calling for help sooner."

"Let that be a lesson," Doyle slurred before drifting off again.

Eric came to take him back. Fortunately Moira turned up and took over the task of getting him back into bed.

"Don't want you catching a chill after all this, now," she admonished. "So how's your blood-shot, cross-eyed friend, then?"

Bodie grinned. "Dopey. Then, nothing new there!"

They both laughed. Bodie realised how much he'd missed her throughout the day.

"When are you next on duty?"

"Now what's that to you William Bodie?"

"Just curious. That's all."

"That's not all, at all. You take your bromide like a good man and stop thinking of women!"

"You may as well tell me to stop breathing!"

She smiled and squeezed his hand. Then, feeling unprofessional, she turned on her heel sharply and left. Bodie felt a tingle up his arm when she touched him like that. It had been a while since a woman had had that effect on him. He was getting tired of his latest paramour already and needed that intelligent conversation and easy banter that Moira was offering.

Moira deliberately kept her duties away from Bodie that next day. She didn't like the way he made her feel; it was unprofessional. The following day, however, she bumped into a colleague who was making her hasty way along the corridor to the consultant's room.

"Mr Bodie's taken a turn for the worse," she said breathlessly, knocking on the doctor's door. Moira didn't have time to ask her for details, so turned back to the ward, outwardly calm. Curtains were drawn around Bodie's bed and a nurse was in attendance. Bodie looked into Moira's worried eyes as she slipped through the curtains.

"Pulse increasing rapidly," the attending nurse intoned, eyes riveted to her fob watch.

Bodie grinned in embarrassment. "Found out," he gasped to Moira.

The consultant then arrived and asked for space. The nurses withdrew and left the consultant and his registrar to their diagnosis. After what seemed an eternity, and Moira trying to busy her mind with other patients, she noticed that the curtains had been drawn back from Bodie's bed. She went over and took his pulse, trying to look professional while her heart went into overdrive. The pulse was slow, as it should be for a patient under sedation. She looked at the clipboard at the foot of the bed, trying not to look around to see if she were being observed. Collapsed lung. Prognosis: good. She breathed a sigh of relief. She indulged in a moment by his bed, looking at him sleeping with the innocence and beauty of a child. She knew that there was darkness there; there would be much of him hidden from the world. From their conversation by Doyle's bed she'd got the impression that he hadn't been in Africa as an aid worker, and he didn't have enough medical knowledge to be a doctor. She wouldn't probe. She couldn't stand here all day, though. There being nothing further she could do for him, she carried on with her duties elsewhere, greatly relieved that this was only a minor hiccup in his road to recovery.

Next day, Bodie made his own way out of bed, but could only manage to get a few yards down the ward before Eric had to catch him and almost carry him back to bed. Asquith watched from a chair at Bodie's anger and frustration and remembered his own not that long ago. He waited till Bodie was settled and then sauntered over.

"Passed my exams," he stated happily.

Bodie now noticed that Derek was in 'civvies'. "Lucky bugger. How did you swing that one?"

Asquith grinned. "You need to have a way with the finer sex, old man," he winked. "What happened yesterday?"

"Suddenly forgot to breathe in and out."

"Well, you seem to be back on the home straight now. You're not trying to stretch out your stay are you?" he probed. A CI5 agent was always curious.

"I'm not _that_ keen on hospital food, Derek."

"Ah, but you are on a certain nurse, eh?"

"No idea what you're talking about," Bodie lied.

Derek shrugged. "Well, I wish you well. She's a fine woman. She deserves better than you mind, but good luck anyway."

Before Bodie could lie further, Asquith had turned on his heel and sauntered down the ward with the light step of a prisoner on release.

No longer worried about her patient, Moira could attend to Doyle without revealing her concern. She read the clipboard and checked his vital signs. She knew that he would ask after Bodie and wondered what to tell him. Since Bodie may tell him anyway, there was no point in lying. Predictably, Doyle's question came once she'd taken the thermometer out of his mouth.

"Well, he did have a bit of a setback yesterday, but he's as right as rain this morning."

Doyle looked anxious and she filled him in. "A collapsed lung can happen to anyone at any time, Ray. It's not a sign of a weakness there or a life confined to a wheelchair. He'll make a full recovery."

Doyle, having quite a bit of medical knowledge himself, knew this to be true. "Have you convinced him of that?"

"He has a bit of a thick head."

They chuckled, and then Doyle asked suddenly, "You're very fond of him, aren't you?"

Moira blushed and cursed herself for it. "I'm fond of all my patients. It's part of a nurse's job to care." She was perhaps more brusque than she intended - which betrayed her as much as her blush.

"Bodie's a good man, Moira," Doyle said.

Before he could finish, Moira interrupted, "I rather think you're fond of him yourself."

"Not in the same way!" he grinned.

"I'm a nurse …"

"You're a woman. You can't take a vow of chastity just because you've got a uniform. I think Bodie's dated most of the local general hospital by now, and the nurses _there_ certainly haven't taken the vow." Doyle trailed off, suddenly realising that this wasn't helping Bodie's cause!

She saw the look on his face and smiled. "Oh, I know he's been round the block more than a few times, Ray. You haven't told me anything I didn't know."

"Oh, so you've seen his records from the clinic then," he winked lewdly.

"You'll be getting a cold bed bath from Eric if you don't behave."

She smiled and left to attend to her less challenging patients. Doyle looked after her thoughtfully. Was he being too romantic to hope that Moira and Bodie had a chance if they both dared to reach for it?


End file.
